True Hearts
by Nikita S
Summary: Lord Cutler Beckett has nearly everything that he could want, including the heart of Davy Jones and a beautiful new wife. But it'll take his old enemy Jack Sparrow to make him realize what he truly cares about the most. BeckettOC, no slash.
1. Chapter 1

Lord Culter Beckett stood in the grand office of the East India Trading Company's headquarters, looking out at the many ships that were docked nearby. He couldn't recall being in such high spirits in quite some time; it seemed that everything he could want was now his. Well, nearly everything, he reminded himself.

But when it had seemed that there was only a small hope of seeing his grand plan brought to fruition, the very object that he so desperately sought was delivered to him. Since then the days had gone by in a blur and he had put to good use his new power, just as he had put to use his new title not so long ago. He now knew that without a doubt he was the most powerful man in all of the world's seas. Just by possessing one object….

And then his thoughts went to her. She was the other reason for his high spirits: his lovely, young Lady Beckett. A small smile crossed his lips as he thought of her and their wedding day. They had only been married a fortnight, and their courtship had been a fairly brief one by most standards. He had already found himself growing fond of her and her ways, however.

Upon his arrival at Port Royal he had decided to at last take a wife, a woman of good breeding and with a good name. Many were eager to present their daughters to him, naturally, but only one truly stood out to him. Miss Catherine Welton was her name, the daughter of a very wealthy and prominent merchant.

Lord Beckett had been surprised by her intelligence, which was obvious from one conversation. Unlike many that he had encountered, her head was not full of girlish fantasies or foolish nonsense. She was a true lady in every way, only lacking the true title.

That he had decided to give her.

His pleasant thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of one of the guard's voices from behind him.

"Lady Beckett to see you, my lord," the man said.

Beckett immediately turned to see his new wife enter the room, breathtaking in a lovely blue gown that he had given her. Since their courtship began he had not restrained himself from showering gifts upon her. A fine lady such as Catherine certainly deserved it.

She smiled her charming smile as she saw him, and he could not resist giving her a smile in return.

"Good afternoon, Lady Beckett," he said as he took her hand, bringing it to his lips.

"Good afternoon, my lord," she answered with a smile. "I surely hope that I am not disturbing you in my little visit. I had come to town to take care of ordering a few things from England, as we discussed yesterday, and I remembered that you told me to stop by whenever I wished to see you."

"Yes, and I'm very glad that you did. This office has been in dire need of the presence of a lovely lady. Wouldn't you agree, Governor Swann?"

With this Beckett turned to the governor, who sat at a large desk nearby. He appeared somewhat startled at first, but quickly recovered and stood to address Catherine.

"Certainly, my lord, it has. Lady Beckett, how lovely to see you again."

"And you as well, Governor," Catherine returned with a smile.

Beckett noticed that despite the gloomy state Swann remained in nowadays, the man still seemed to brighten when Lady Beckett spoke with him. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of his Elizabeth.

After a short conversation with the governor Lord Beckett decided to return home with his wife, though he generally did not leave his office for another few hours. Their grand home was not terribly far from the East India Company's headquarters, and sat upon a hill that gave them a lovely view of Port Royal.

The rest of the afternoon went by enjoyably, and after a lengthy walk in the gardens Lord and Lady Beckett dined together. They spoke of quite a few things, including the items that Catherine had ordered from England to use in their large home. Beckett had given her complete control of such things, and though the place was already very tastefully decorated, it still needed a woman's touch.

Once they had finished dining Beckett asked Catherine to play the harpsichord for him, and as usual she was more than happy to oblige.

He sat in one of the large, comfortable chairs that could be found in their music room and watched as her hands flew gracefully and skillfully across the keys. She was extremely well trained in music, her father had seen to that.

As he watched her play he thought of how glad he was that he had decided to marry once he reached Port Royal. Though they had only been wed for a very short time, it seemed considerably better than he had imagined. He had managed to find a wife that he could have intellectual conversations with, and who wasn't just appealing to the eye but also to the mind. Of course, Catherine certainly wasn't average when it came to looks. She stood nearly his height, with a lovely face and flowing golden hair that caught both sunlight and candlelight wonderfully. Her eyes were a deep blue, similar to his own, and reminded him of the sea. Truly, he had first noticed her because of her beauty. And on their wedding day she had been like a wonderful present, wrapped in silk and lace for him alone to enjoy.

Sitting down his glass of brandy, Beckett came to stand behind his wife. Still wrapped up in the piece she was playing, Catherine hadn't noticed his movement. He gently caressed her cheek with his hand, giving a small smile when she leaned into his touch. He couldn't stop his eyes from trailing down her lovely pale neck, to the very low cut neckline of her gown, which allowed just enough of her breasts to show.

Leaning down, he planted a kiss on her cheek. "It's growing late, dear. I think it's time that we retired for the evening," he said softly.

Catherine stopped playing and turned to look at him. "Of course, darling."

Beckett was glad to notice that his new wife had begun to seem more comfortable in intimate situations with him, and seemed to enjoy their past few nights together much more than she had just a week before.

He watched as she undressed, patiently waiting and enjoying the sight. After all, he had found that waiting for things made them even more enjoyable.

She came to stand before him, wearing nothing but a chemise and a slight blush on her cheeks. He chuckled to himself, still enjoying her modesty. A true lady, he reminded himself.

Catherine had removed the pins from her hair, letting it fall in silky strands by her face. Beckett ran his fingers through a lock of it, and then placed a hand under her delicate chin, bringing her lips to his. A few short moments later she was under him on their giant bed, her chemise along with his garments on the floor.

She was even more beautiful when he made love to her. Her eyes either half closed, lashes fluttering from the pleasure of it, or locked with his own. Their sighs were like a symphony, and hearing hers nearly drove him mad with pleasure.

A while later Beckett watched her lying next to him, her long hair spread out across their pillows. He knew that he needed sleep, which was something that he hadn't had much of over the past two weeks. But he found himself unable to take his eyes off of her. Apparently she felt his gaze, and her eyes fluttered open to meet his. A small smile crossed her lips.

"Is everything well, my lord? You really must get some sleep tonight."

"Oh I will, don't worry. And once again, darling, I'd prefer it if you'd simply call me Cutler," he said, tapping her lips with his finger and giving her a reassuring smile.

Catherine took his hand in hers and rubbed it lovingly.

"As you wish….Cutler," she said, looking up at him with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**A big thanks to my readers and especially my reviewers! You guys keep me writing, so please continue to let me know what you think. Here are the next two chapters, which were originally just one until I decided to split them. Any mistakes are my own of course, and I own nothing but Catherine. Enjoy!**

Lady Catherine Beckett clamped the book that she had been reading shut, and let out a sigh of exasperation. Not because of the book, which she had been sad to finish, but for other reasons. For most women, being married to a Lord would guarantee an extremely comfortable, worry-free life of doing little and having a lot. And so it was for Catherine, to some extent. She was very comfortable, did little and had more than she could ever need. However, unlike many women she was not satisfied with being a lazy ornament to a wealthy man's grand home.

Instead she was often moving about, to and fro, until she would nearly drive the serving maids mad from either following her or getting out of her way. But moving wasn't the only thing that Catherine did. She also thought about things, and quite a lot.

As a result of her thinking several things had begun to puzzle her. She had come to realize that her husband, Lord Beckett, was very passionate about his work. That was not unusual, she knew. But over the two months that she had been his wife she had noticed a change in him, though at first she dismissed it as nothing. After all, she was just getting truly accustomed to the man.

First she noticed that he did not return home as early as he had in the past, but worked later and later at the Company's headquarters. Then he began the annoying habit of working in his study for hours into the night, after he had arrived late. At least, Catherine had thought that it was work that occupied him.

One evening she had grown tired of waiting for him in their chambers, as one of the typical Caribbean storms that she had grown accustomed to brought heavy rain and thunder.

Wrapping her large robe around her, Catherine quietly went to the door of his study. She normally did not disturb him, imagining that he was buried under paperwork and wouldn't be pleased if he was disturbed. However, what she saw surprised her.

Opening the door to the study as quietly as she could, she stuck her head in, letting her eyes adjust to the surprisingly darkened room. There was only one candle lit on Cutler's desk, the rest of the room flickered with the light from the fireplace.

Her eyes came to rest on him, standing close to the fire, a glass of brandy or some other drink in his hand. He hadn't even noticed her, but continued to stare into the fire with an intensity that made her slightly uneasy. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting some of it while casting the other in shadows. Her eyes moved from him back to the desk, where a curious object caught her attention.

It seemed to be a chest, not very large, but very ornate from what she could tell. Much of it was cast in shadows, but somehow she felt drawn to it.

She pushed the door open a little wider, curiosity eating at her. Then she remembered her husband's presence, and her eyes flashed back to him. He had noticed her movement and raised his head to look at her, his blue eyes illuminated by the firelight.

"Catherine? I thought you'd be asleep by now. It's nearly midnight," he said, glancing at the clock on the mantle.

"I couldn't sleep, the storm kept me up. I just came to check on you. It is a bit late, as you pointed out," she answered, noticing the way that he watched her.

"Hmm," was her husband's only reply, his eyes returning to the fire.

Catherine stood in the doorway for a few more seconds before curiosity got the best of her. Entering the room, she walked towards his large desk, her eyes on the mysterious chest.

"Cutler, darling, what is this?" She reached out and touched the chest, feeling the elaborate designs. From behind she heard her husband approach her, and she turned to give him an innocent face.

"It's just an old chest, my dear. Nothing special," Cutler said, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Now, what do you say to retiring for the evening? I'm quite confident that I can make you forget all about the storm," he said, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He had certainly succeeded in making her forget about the storm that night, but not about the strange chest or his peculiar behavior. Catherine became even more alarmed and anxious when the executions began. They had become quite frequent before she even learned of them, which happened one day when she overheard two of the maids discussing the many and frequent executions of supposed fugitives in and around Port Royal. Upon questioning one of the maids she learned that nearly every morning dozens of citizens went to the gallows, all of whom were accused of either being pirates or aiding them. Many of the rights of the citizens of Port Royal had also been suspended. All of this was done on the orders of Lord Cutler Beckett, His Majesty's representative in the Caribbean. And also her husband.

It came as a shock to her when she had at last pulled this information from the maids. Unable to speak, she had shut herself in her chambers, refusing her midday meal. For hours she thought on the matter; there were too many conflicting thoughts going on inside her head to do anything with.

She knew that Cutler could be a very stern man, and she had even heard him described as cold hearted, which she no longer believed to be true after two months of marriage to him. Certainly she had never met an English lord that wasn't a bit cold or detached, and she had been relieved to learn that she had married one that was capable of showing affection for her. But yet he had ordered the execution of hundreds of citizens who were believed to be pirates. Including very young cabin boys, she had heard one of the servants say. Was this what her husband did every morning when he went to oversee the Company? Catherine could hardly believe it.

Despite her desperate desire to learn the truth from Cutler, she had decided to at least wait a few days before broaching the subject.

Several days had now passed, and according to the maids (she had demanded that they keep her informed of the executions) a shadow had settled on Port Royal and the executions had not ceased. Therefore Catherine had become determined to speak with Lord Beckett that very evening, and if necessary demand that he stop the frequent executions.

In order to keep her mind off of things she had gone through several books, and likely she still had several hours to pass before Cutler returned for the evening. Tossing the book she had just finished on a nearby table, Catherine stood up and began to pace the room. After a few short moments she made her decision.

"Sarah," she called to one of the maids.

"Yes, my lady?" the young maid named Sarah answered, stepping into the room.

"Tell George to ready the coach at once. I'm done with waiting."


	3. Chapter 3

Half an hour later Catherine stepped into the East India Company's grand office, dressed to the nines. If she was going to disturb her husband and demand an explanation, she had decided that it would be best to at least look fetching.

She gave the guards at the door little time to announce her arrival as she strolled straight into the office and made for her husband's desk without hesitation. Lord Beckett was seated behind the giant thing, quietly discussing some matter of business with a man Catherine knew to be Mr. Mercer, one of her husband's most trusted men. She was nearly to his desk before Cutler looked away from Mercer and saw her. The look on his face gave her some pleasure, though she knew it wouldn't last for long.

"Catherine!" Lord Beckett exclaimed, standing up from the impressive chair that he had been seated in. "What a pleasant surprise." He gave her a smile that made her legs shake, but she knew what she had come for.

"I need to speak with you, my lord," she said, her chin up and face set. She had watched her father and now her husband enough times to know how to adequately appear confident and in control. Naturally Lord Beckett did not seem bothered by this, though his face hardened somewhat to match hers.

"Very well," he replied, seating himself once again. Mercer, however, did not move a muscle.

"In _private_, if you please, dear," she said with a bit of sarcasm in her voice, cutting her eyes at Mercer.

Beckett waved him away and he obeyed without a word. Catherine watched as her husband's cold blue eyes came to rest again on her, waiting expectantly. She met his stare with her own determined one and spoke.

"I had hoped to wait until this evening to speak with you in private about this matter, but I could wait no longer," she began. "Several disturbing facts have come to my attention over the past few weeks, and I felt that I must ask you about them. Forgive me, but I need answers."

Beckett continued to watch her for a few more seconds, and then answered. "As you wish. What is it that has so disturbed you?"

Catherine could no longer bear his intense gaze and looked down at the papers on his desk.

"For one, the executions. I have heard of them and of how frequently they occur, and I've come to ask for an explanation." She returned her eyes to his, determined once more.

"Very well," Beckett began. "I have ordered the executions of those known to be pirates or to have aided pirates, and are therefore enemies of England and of the East India Trading Company." Having expected this answer, Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with his hand.

"By ordering so many frequent executions I hope to drive the pirates to desperation, forcing them to act."

Catherine stared at him. "But is there no other way? And if there is, do you really hope to defeat all of the pirates if they unite together, even with the armada behind you?"

At this Beckett smiled, letting his eyes roam over her. "You mustn't worry yourself with these things, darling. I doubt that the pirates will be able to stop squabbling long enough to unite. And if they do, the armada isn't the only weapon I've got. So don't let yourself be troubled, hm?"

Catherine returned his smile, almost content enough with his answer to forget the other burning question in her mind. But not quite.

"One other question, dear," she said. "Since the evening that I first saw it I have been unable to get that chest out of my thoughts," she began. "I know that it is far more significant to you than you pretend it is, otherwise you would not take it everywhere with you and have it guarded so. I'm not blind, Cutler."

If his face had appeared hard before, it was made of stone after she spoke. Yet always the gentleman, Beckett maintained perfect composure.

"The chest is very valuable to some, myself included. However, you needn't think any more on it."

Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by the arrival of Admiral Norrington, a man that her husband had introduced her to after their marriage. Lord Beckett, of course, was quick to take advantage of the distraction.

"We'll discuss this further tonight, shall we?" he asked her, though she could tell that it was more of a statement than a question. She accepted, however, and gave him a brief nod before turning sharply to leave. Hating to be rude, she gave a polite greeting to the Admiral, her eyes not once returning to her husband as she left the room.

Later that evening Catherine sat by the fire in their bedchamber, reading yet another book that she had began. Footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs and to their room, but she didn't look up as Lord Beckett entered. She pretended to read as he stepped behind the screen to undress, emerging a few moments later wearing only an open undershirt, breeches, and a rich robe that trailed a bit behind him. He still did not speak to her, but made his way to a table and poured himself a glass of brandy. After a few sips he finally spoke.

"I thought that I should inform you that I shall be leaving Port Royal for open sea tomorrow."

He certainly had Catherine's attention with that, and she snapped the book shut, standing to look at him.

"Leaving for open sea?" at a loss for words and highly irritated, she stared at him. "Why? And why on earth haven't you told me of this until tonight?"

Lord Beckett came to stand in front of her, casually drinking from his glass. "It was only decided upon today. There are a few…complications that I must see to. I'll be leaving on the Endeavour first thing in the morning."

Catherine brought her chin up and looked at him with determination. "Oh really? Well, then I am going with you…first thing in the morning."

She watched as her husband frowned. "I'm afraid you won't be, Catherine dearest. I'll be going with the armada, possibly to do battle. And naval warfare is nothing for a lady to be in the middle of."

"Isn't it? Elizabeth Swann is in the middle of it all, from what I hear," she retorted.

"And Elizabeth Swann isn't what I would call a proper lady. At least not now," Beckett answered. "But enough of this bickering, the matter is settled. Now, I'd like to enjoy tonight with you, since it'll be our last together for some time."

Sitting his glass on the mantle, he drew closer to Catherine, stroking her loose hair and then her face with one hand. Despite the feeling growing inside her, she remained still, glaring at him with an intensity that she hoped he noticed. She was infuriated with him, for many reasons, and couldn't decide which one was worse.

Beckett continued to stroke her face, pulling her to him with his hand at the small of her back. As he leaned in to kiss her, she pulled away and stepped back from him.

"Surely you don't expect things to go along as simple as that?" she asked, looking him in the eye. "I'm your wife, Cutler, not some harlot that you come to when you feel the need. I demand far more respect than that."

For a moment she thought that she had gone too far, though she did not know exactly what too far was with him. However, to her surprise his lips twisted into a smile, and he again stepped toward her.

"Of course you do. You are Lady Beckett, and you will be treated accordingly. Though I'm afraid that I cannot give you all of the answers that you seek. At least not for now." He brought his face close to hers and whispered in her ear. "I do hope you'll accept my apologies tonight."

Catherine regarded him for a few seconds. "Well, I suppose that would depend on how good your apologies are."

"Oh, I think you know how good they are," he answered as he began to kiss her neck slowly, a sound of contentment rising from her throat.

She let him undress her as they backed up to the giant bed, his hands working skillfully at the laces of her dress. Soon she wore nothing but a smile, eyes roaming over his chest as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His lips found hers, those perfectly shaped wonderful lips that she enjoyed so much. She thought at that moment that she would never grow tired of kissing those cushioned lips, or of feeling them roam over her body. Pushing her slowly back into the pillows he let his hands move down her, caressing and kissing here and there until she sighed with pleasure. At last he pushed her legs apart and she felt him slide into her, enjoying the wonderful feeling of it and the sounds of his pleasure as well as her own.

Holding on to him, she let herself forget about everything else; about him leaving and the mysterious chest and all of it. There was nothing but the sounds of their pleasure and the luxurious feeling of skin like silk caressing her inside and out.

They made love several more times that night, and Catherine wasn't the only one who let it take away the uneasy thoughts. Little did her husband know that she was already forming a plan.

Late into the night, as she lay next to Cutler while he slept, she made a decision that she would come to regret before later realizing the importance of it.

She would go with him, aboard the Endeavour, to whatever sea and whatever battle he would enter into. The most difficult part to the plan, she decided, was that he would not know that she was even there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, thanks to my readers and reviewers! Sorry that it took a bit longer to get this chapter out. Life's been a bit busy lately, but I'll try to have Chapter 5 (and maybe 6!) out in the next few days. I hope you enjoy this one, and please review, as reviews are motivation to write more. :)**

* * *

Catherine looked at herself in the rather small mirror and frowned. Her elegant, lady-like appearance had diminished quite a bit, much to her dismay. Though she knew the importance of blending in with the men, she still found it extremely difficult to let her appearance sink to such a state. 

She wasn't quite certain just how long she'd been on the _Endeavour_, though she put it at about a week. Not a long time to be aboard a ship, she knew, but under the circumstances it seemed like forever. In truth, she was amazed that her disguise had lasted her so long. Day after day had passed without anyone asking any questions, it seemed. This was perhaps due to her tendency to make herself scarce on the upper levels of the ship, especially on deck where she might be seen by Cutler or an officer that would know her face. It had been an extremely difficult task, attempting to make herself seem like one of the crew, especially when it came to doing the work.

No doubt the other men thought that she was simply a boy that had been hired by the Company and who had started young in hopes of working to a higher position. The tasks that she was given were fairly simple and not too physically demanding, though more than once Catherine had to hide her delicate, well-kept hands from view. Already the skin on them had begun to harden and grow rough, something that she certainly wasn't used to.

As she studied her face in the mirror, Catherine noticed the thin layer of dirt that covered it, as well as the slight tan that she had acquired from being on deck. Her hair was pulled back in a queue and usually hidden under a hat, which made her head appear somewhat larger. Perhaps she did look a bit like a boy, though a very delicate one. Her small, hour-glass figure was hidden under a loose shirt, breeches, and an East India Company jacket that she had managed to get. She smiled as she looked down at the loose shirt, breeches, and tall black boots. Closing her eyes she lifted the shirt to her nose. It smelled just like him.

Catherine thought back to the morning that they had left Port Royal on the _Endeavour_. She had hardly slept that night for fear of waking to find Cutler gone. But she had known when he had risen to leave, and immediately made ready as soon as he left their home.

Her husband was not a large man at all, and much to her amusement she had managed to fit into his fine clothes rather well. She had chosen an older, plainer shirt and breeches, as well as a pair of his tall boots, which also fit fairly well.

The rest of that morning was a blur to her, but she had managed to pass as an employee of the Company, though a young one. She had seen Cutler several times on deck, but luckily managed to head in the opposite direction before he noticed her.

It was very difficult to see him there, drinking hot tea on deck dressed in his finest clothes without her. Catherine longed to join him, to sit there in relaxation and listen to the sound of his polished voice. It came to her in bits sometimes, as she heard him give orders to Mercer or some other officer. His voice was still polished and calm, but much more authoritative than it ever had been with her.

The thought had crossed her mind on several occasions to reveal her presence to him, and once she had almost done it. She had reconsidered, however, after thinking of the anger that he would surely express when discovering that she had disobeyed him. It would be best, she had decided, to wait for a much better time or opportunity. Inwardly she had cursed herself a hundred times for making such a decision, though she could not deny that the whole thing was terribly exciting.

So she had continued to pretend, and it did not take her long to be rewarded for her patience.

One day, only a few days after leaving Port Royal, Catherine came to notice that the _Endeavour _was drawing near to the flaming ruins of several ships, which had been almost completely destroyed. Like some of the crew she was fairly stunned, and went up to the deck to get a better look. When Lord Beckett suddenly appeared, however, she sank back to observe from a distance.

It seemed that there was little need for her to worry about being spotted, as her husband's primary concern appeared to be the demolished ships. Pulling out a spyglass he studied them, and then spoke to Mercer.

Catherine grew bold enough to draw closer behind them, in time to hear her husband tell Mercer to "fetch the chest."

She narrowed her eyes at the back of Beckett's head, then turned and went below deck. So their little venture out to sea did involve that infernal chest after all, she thought.

A short time later the _Endeavour_ suddenly dropped anchor, and Catherine soon discovered why.

They had pulled alongside another ship, unlike any that she had ever seen. Covered in sea slime and having the appearance of a vessel that had rotted at the bottom of the ocean, it was a somewhat frightening thing to behold. Especially in comparison to the _Endeavour_'s polished appearance.

Catherine watched as many of the East India Company's men, along with her husband and the Admiral, boarded the mysterious ship. Thankfully she was not asked to, and pretended to busy herself on deck while keeping an eye on this curious scene.

Try as she might, Catherine was unable to see what transpired on the deck of the strange ship after she was given orders to tend to business below deck. For what felt like an eternity the _Endeavour_ remained anchored, adding to Catherine's building sense of anxiety. Something was very odd about the nature of their voyage as well as her husband's behavior. Perhaps what bothered her most was the fact that he had not seen fit to tell her anything about the strange business which he was apparently involved in. She wondered if it was simply a matter of trust, which bothered her all the more. Unfortunately, it would take more time aboard the ship to uncover many of the secrets that haunted her dreams.

Several days passed as Catherine continued to make do with her life on the ship and at sea. Though her father was a very successful merchant and she had accompanied him on several voyages, she still found it difficult to adjust to life at sea, as well as the slight rocking of the ship. She found it even more difficult, however, to adjust to the separation from Cutler.

Catherine was certainly not the sort of woman to cling to her husband, nor one who found it difficult to be separated from him for some time. But the most torturous thing of all was to see him almost daily, yet never speak a word to him.

She was surprised at how fond of him she had grown in such a short time. Something about the man drew her to him. Perhaps it was his calm, ambitious nature; intense yet never forceful. He always seemed to know what he wanted and just how to acquire it. She was a perfect example of this.

As she sat washing and polishing the fine china and silverware as she had been ordered, she thought back to the first time she had met Lord Beckett.

Her father had informed her that a certain lord wished to make her acquaintance, and that the man had been invited to tea for this very purpose. Catherine had gone through this sort of routine before; after all, she was a well-bred lady that had not been spoken for. Naturally suitors called quite often, but thankfully her father usually did not push her to choose one. Not until Lord Beckett, at least.

The lord had arrived on horseback one afternoon, and Catherine had watched through one of the windows as he dismounted from the fine beast and handed the reins to a servant. Her father had not given much time at all to descriptions of him, and she was surprised to find that he was a much smaller man than she had expected, not that it mattered to her much. In truth, larger men tended to make her a bit nervous and slightly intimidated. In some ways, then, she had been grateful for the man's height.

He had introduced himself as Lord Cutler Beckett and had planted a kiss on her hand, his blue eyes holding her gaze. She was relieved to see that he was a very pleasant man to look upon, with gentle features that made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

They had then sat down to tea with her father, a polite conversation starting between the three of them. She had noticed that Lord Beckett seemed to be interested in hearing her thoughts on the matters that were discussed, and he made efforts to include her in the conversation as much as possible. Try as she might, Catherine could not ignore his finely shaped lips and the way they moved when he spoke. She had managed to keep from blushing at the thought, and for the rest of the time tried to avoid looking at the lower half of his face.

At last Lord Beckett's visit had drawn to an end, but before leaving he had asked if he might call on her again the following day. Naturally her father had agreed, and she had as well.

Catherine finished polishing yet another piece of the silver and laid it to the side. Going over such fond memories in her mind made her current position more bearable, and allowed her to somewhat forget the work that she was doing. Catherine did find the tasks that she was ordered to do very humbling, though they could be quite annoying to someone of Catherine's breeding. She made a mental note to always appreciate the servants and their work once she returned home.

As she lifted another piece of the fine silverware a deep boom shook the ship, and Catherine was thrown to the floor, dishes and all crashing down around her. Cursing in a most unladylike fashion, she pulled herself to her feet and stumbled out of the small room that she had been in.

The _Endeavour_ seemed to have taken quite a hard blow, and as Catherine made her way to the upper levels of the ship she heard the sounds of what seemed to be battle.

"At last, a little excitement around here," she said to herself before being pushed into a wall by armed men rushing to the deck.

One of them carried a rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other. Glancing at her, he shoved the pistol into her hand. "There you are, lad. Can't have you up there fighting pirates unarmed, can we?"

"Pirates?" she asked, studying him. He was a rather short man with a thick accent, a bit rough in appearance but with a kind enough face.

"Pirates for sure, lad. And one of the most notorious of them all is on this ship. Capt'n Jack Sparrow, if you've heard of him. But there's no time to waste chattin' here about it."

With that the man rushed up the steps to the deck, followed by Catherine. Fighting had indeed broken out on the deck of the _Endeavour_, and for the first time she noticed the presence of two other ships nearby. One seemed to be fleeing the fight, the other blasting them with thundering cannon fire.

All around her men were fighting, being shot, and getting run through with swords. For a moment the violence stunned her, and she stood staring at it as if she were in a dream. Her dazed state was soon put to an end, however.

To her right Catherine saw a man rushing at her, sword ready to come down in one stroke and finish her. Without a thought she raised the pistol that she held in her right hand, cocked it, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the man square in the chest, throwing him backwards onto the deck, where he grew still. Crimson liquid flowed across his chest, and Catherine was nearly sick.

The man certainly had been a pirate from the rough look of him, and had been intent on killing her. However, it was the first life that she had ever taken, and it shook her to the core. Tears began to run down her face silently as the battles around her continued.

Once again the ship shook from the blow of cannons, and Catherine lost her footing. She hit the deck hard and rolled, her hat flying off and her hair coming out of its neat queue. It fell long and golden in her face as she tried to steady herself enough to stand. Her pistol had slid several feet away from her, and she half crawled to where it lay, reaching out for it.

Before she could grab the weapon it was pinned to the deck by a booted foot. Catherine froze, her eyes remaining on the dirty, well-worn boots that could only belong to a pirate. Then she slowly lifted her gaze to the face of the man on whom her life possibly depended.

To her surprise the face was rather handsome, though much too unkempt for her taste. She at once noticed the finely chiseled features, tanned skin, and dark eyes that looked at her with a sort of curiosity.

"Well now, what've we got here?" the man said with a slight grin, tilting his head a little to one side.

Grabbing the rail of the ship for support, Catherine managed to stand to face the odd stranger, aware of her loose hair and troublesome position. She wasn't sure if the man knew her or not, though she was quite certain that they had never met.

"Do I know you?" she asked, her voice as steady as she could make it. The man's smile grew, showing a few gold teeth that gleamed in the sun.

"Unfortunately not, I'm afraid. But I'm quite sure as to the fact that I know you."

Catherine studied the man for a few seconds. "You're Jack Sparrow, aren't you? The pirate?"

The ship shook slightly once again as the cannon and rifle fire continued loudly around them.

"Actually, it's_ Captain_ Jack Sparrow, love," he said.

Catherine noticed the odd way that he moved his hands when he spoke. Almost as if he were intoxicated, she noted with amusement. But then, she had always heard that a pirate's favorite pastime was a bottle of rum.

She had opened her mouth to reply when the ship shook once more, the blast of a cannon shattering the side of the ship near her, causing wood to fly everywhere.

Catherine was knocked several feet from where she had been standing, and felt her head slam against something hard.

Her world suddenly went black, the sensation of falling barely registering in her mind. It felt like falling in a dream; time slowing to a crawl as she seemed to fall forever. Then cool water surrounded her, held her gently and pulled her down further into the cold darkness.

She was unable to feel the strong arms that wrapped around her waist, the arms that pulled her back to the light where she once again could breathe the salty air of the sea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here we are, the next bit of the story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter--you guys really make my day! It honestly helps a great deal to know that people enjoy your story or a chapter, because otherwise a writer tends to think that they're doing a poor job. So do let me know how I'm doing! Also, I hope I've done (and continue to do) a decent job with Jack. He can be a bit difficult to bring out, as so much of the character comes from the performance of the wonderful Johnny Depp. It's quite hard to make the character as good in writing, basically. Oh, and chapter six is already in the works, so watch for it soon. Now read and enjoy!**

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The rise and fall of the ocean's waves gently rocked the ship known as the _Black Pearl_. Lady Catherine Beckett slowly became aware of this slight movement, and with some difficulty her eyes fluttered open. She immediately became aware of her throbbing head, and brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the candlelight in the room. 

When her eyes became able to bear the light she began to study her surroundings. Night had apparently arrived, as all windows in the room were black and gave no sign of what lay on the other side. Catherine realized that she was obviously in a cabin on a ship, though she was quite sure that it was not the _Endeavour_.

The cabin was a large one, though not exactly well-kept. Nearly every surface was covered with some sort of object, from maps and books to old bottles of ink and rum. Candles had been lit around the room, as well as an old lantern.

Slowly Catherine rose from the cot that she had been lying on, but soon regretted it. She clung to a wall as her head spun and her stomach threatened to make her sick. As she tried to regain her sense of balance the door to the cabin opened. Her eyes immediately went to the shadowy figure that entered the room, apparently carrying a tray, which was set on a large table. Without a word they turned and left, shutting the door behind them and clicking the lock into place.

For the first time Catherine realized that she was locked in, apparently a prisoner. She made it to the door as fast as she could, and with all her strength she tried to force it open. As she had expected, it did not budge.

Her mind raced as she tried to recall just what had happened on the deck of the _Endeavour_. It was difficult to do, and to her alarm she realized that there were bits of it that she did not remember. The pirate ship had attacked, there had been fighting all around her, and she had shot a man. And then…

Catherine's thoughts were interrupted as she heard footsteps and the clicking of the lock. She moved away from the door with haste, and stood ready to accost anyone who opened it.

It was opened slowly, and in the shadows she made out a head poking into the room, with dark eyes that looked around cautiously before coming to rest on her.

"Ah…there you are!" a vaguely familiar voice said. Opening the door wider, the stranger strolled into the room. To Catherine's surprise she recognized him.

"Jack Sparrow?" she asked slowly, studying the man before her.

"Once again, love, it's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

Catherine nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes…I remember. Now tell me, _Captain_ Sparrow, where am I and how did I come to be here?"

Sparrow shut the door behind him before answering. "Now that, my dear lass, is a bit of an interesting story. One that'll take quite a few minutes to tell, in fact. And seein' as how you have yet to touch your evening meal, maybe it'll be best saved for some other time."

For the first time Catherine noticed the plate of food that had been brought to her, and to her dismay her stomach growled rather loudly. She walked to the table and sat down in one of the chairs, attempting to maintain graceful composure in the presence of a pirate. After all, there were all sorts of horrible things that could be done to a lady left alone amongst pirates. Especially a lady whose husband was their chief enemy.

"Well then, why don't you just tell me everything while I enjoy my evening meal, Captain Sparrow?" Catherine said, helping herself to a bottle of wine that had been brought with the meal. Certainly not the finest, but it would do.

Sparrow grinned and pulled out a chair. "As the lady commands."

Looking around the table he found a bottle of rum and uncorked it, propping his feet up as he took a long swig. "So now, what was it you wanted to know?"

Catherine let out a short sigh. "I wished to know where I am and how I got here," she said slowly.

"Aye...now I remember. Well, to answer your first question, you are currently aboard the _Black Pearl_, which I am naturally the captain of. And to give a rather simple answer to your second question, you are here because you took a little swim in the ocean. Savvy?"

"A little swim in the ocean? What do you mean?" Catherine asked, looking up with complete confusion.

Sparrow took another swig before answering. "How much do you remember, love?"

Looking back at her food, she thought hard. "I remember there was fighting all around. The ship shook under cannon fire and I was thrown down on the deck. I went for my pistol…and you were there," she said, looking back at him. "The last memory I have is of speaking with you."

"You remember more than I thought you would," Sparrow said cheerfully. "Unfortunately, you don't seem to remember having your head knocked against the railing, or falling off the deck and heading for Davy Jones' Locker." He added the last bit as if it were just a simple matter, nothing to think much on.

"You mean I fell into the ocean?" Catherine asked in disbelief. "Well it's a wonder that I didn't sink to my death, then."

"Aye, that it is, darlin'. But you've got me to thank for that." Sparrow said with a smile that revealed his golden teeth.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "You? You saved me, I suppose?"

"That I did. Which explains why you grace my ship with your presence, Lady Beckett."

At this she froze for several seconds, and then lifted her eyes to the pirate. Fear began to grip her insides, and at once she lost all appetite for her meal. When at last she spoke the words came slower than usual.

"How did you know who I am?"

Sparrow shrugged. "Odd thing, really. I had just had a little chat with your dear husband on his little ship before I ran into you. I happened to spot a very nice, large portrait of a certain lady against one wall, and I asked him who it was. He said it was his wife, Lady Beckett. Well, I wasn't quick to forget the face of the lady in that portrait. So when I came across you a few moments later, I recognized you at once. Though I have to admit, I was very surprised to see you running about on deck, dressed like one of the men. But then, maybe his lordship fancies you that way," he added with a shrug, bringing the bottle of rum to his mouth.

Catherine winced at the mention of her husband. "Actually, Cutler has no idea that I was onboard the _Endeavour_at all."

Sparrow gave her a confused face. "He doesn't? Well that's no good. Don't suppose he'll know that you're missing, then." Seeing the alarm on her face, he continued. "Don't worry, m'lady, you're not in danger. But I do require your help with a little something."

She regarded him for a few seconds before nodding for him to continue. He stood and began to pace to and fro, and then spoke.

"Seein' as how your dear husband has no idea that you were ever on his ship, and therefore has no idea that you are now on mine, I'm going to need a little proof to convince him of the latter. Savvy?"

Catherine turned to look him in the eye. "And exactly why are you so eager to prove to him that I'm with you? Surely you cannot wish for another meeting so soon after escaping him?"

Sparrow looked at her and grinned. "Apparently you're not aware of just how fond your husband is of bargaining." He saw realization come to her eyes with this, and anger flashed through her features.

"You intend to trade me for something. Trade me, like I'm nothing more than a valuable object that you can toss around!"

Sparrow answered quickly, wishing to avoid a heated argument with a noblewoman.

"It's not quite like that, love. Your husband's just got something that I'd like very dearly to have," he said, moving away and holding his hands up as if preparing to shield himself from her anger.

"And by my reckoning, as soon as he finds out you're missing, he'll be lookin' for you with every ship in that little armada of his," Sparrow continued. "So's it's better for all of us if I just inform him that you're safely in my company, and here just waiting to be returned to him."

Catherine stood from her chair, causing Sparrow to ease further away from her and put the table between them.

"I am eager to be returned to my husband. We have much to discuss, it seems," she said, walking around the cabin and studying its contents with interest. "I'm also very eager to know what it is that you hope to gain from such an exchange. You mentioned that he has something that you desire?" She looked up at Sparrow innocently.

"Aye, that he does. But I'm afraid it's a bit late to explain all that business. I'm sure m'lady needs her rest." With that he headed for the door, but then stopped and turned to face her.

"I almost forgot…I'll be needin' that bit of proof that we discussed. You know, somethin' that'll convince him without a doubt that you're here."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Sparrow looked at her carefully with a thoughtful expression. Then his eyes went to her neck, where a chain was barely visible. A smile crossed his face. "That thing around your neck…what is it?"

Reluctantly she pulled the chain from under her shirt, revealing a ring. It was the very fine ring that Cutler had given her on their wedding day, which she had worn on a chain to keep it hidden from view. She had hated the thought of leaving it at Port Royal, and so had brought it along with her.

"It's my wedding ring. But you're not taking it. Choose something else."

Sparrow sighed. "Look, love…from the looks of things, there ain't another thing on you that'll do as proof. Not even a pretty dress. So I'm gonna need that little thing 'round your neck. Savvy?"

Catherine glared at him for a few seconds before pulling the chain over her head and holding it out to him. Stepping forward he took it from her with a smile and turned back for the door.

"Be careful with that," she said to his back. "If anything should happen to it I'll have your head for it."

"Aye…" Grinning, he shut the door behind him, and once again she heard the click of the lock. With a sigh she sat back down on the cot.

In truth she was far from sleep, though she was sure that it was quite late into the night. It had been too much excitement for a woman used to only the calm, quiet activities of a lady. She found a few books lying around to read, and after she grew tired of them she sat and thought about the whole mess that she had gotten herself into. Cutler would kill her as soon as he got her back from the pirates. That is, if they didn't kill her first. The thought made a chill run down her spine.

Sometime before dawn Catherine finally nodded off to sleep. Strange dreams came to her, as they would every night that she spent on the _Black Pearl_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Once again, thanks to my reviewer****s! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, probably because it's all Lord Beckett. Hope you all enjoy!**

The sun was just beginning to rise over the ocean as Lord Beckett finished his morning meal. Sipping on his hot tea, he thought over the previous day's events as well as the plans for the current day. There was much to be done, that was for sure. Adding another lump of sugar to his already sweet tea, he made a mental list of the goals that he was yet to reach.

Despite his obsession with business and the East India Company, Cutler still found his thoughts about such matters interrupted by ones of _her_. And so it was as he sipped on his tea, watching the light of the early morning sun slowly illuminate the sea.

After a few moments his thoughts did return to Catherine, as they were fond of doing in the evenings as well as the mornings. He supposed it was because that was when he missed her presence the most. Evening and morning meals were not the same without her company, and the nights were certainly different. He had once again had to adjust to sleeping alone in his giant bed, and the unfamiliar rocking of the ship did nothing to ease him into sleep. If only his Catherine could be there to offer her company on those long nights….

Lord Beckett's pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a sharp nock on his chamber doors. "Enter," he said without looking up, stirring the sugar into his tea.

The doors opened and Mercer walked in, stopping at the table Beckett was seated at.

The man was terribly efficient in nearly everything that he was ordered to do. Cutler had come to respect and admire that about him, though he kept his praise to a minimum. It was never a good thing to give too much praise to a servant, he had learned. It often had a way of leading to mediocrity, unfortunately.

In Mercer's gloved hand Cutler noticed a piece of parchment and what appeared to be a small chain of some sort.

"Find something of interest, Mr. Mercer?"

"Yes, m'lord. We came upon this a few moments ago, floating in the water. It was in a bottle tied to a barrel, along with something that I think you may recognize." Mercer handed him both objects.

Taking them, he brought his attention first to the chain, which seemed to be a necklace of some sort. At least, that was all that he had thought it was.

To his surprise he discovered a ring on the chain. Mercer had been right, he did recognize it.

It was Catherine's wedding ring, the very one that he had given to her the day that they were married. There could be no mistake; there was no other like it in the world, Cutler had seen to that.

He felt the blood drain from his face as he turned the small ring over and studied it for a few seconds. He then unfolded the small piece of parchment without saying a word, his chest tightening with a fear that he would not allow to show.

Mercer watched as the note was read and then reread, and he did not fail to notice the pallor and obvious change of his master's features. They had grown tight; from anger or fear, Mercer could not tell. It was rare to ever see Lord Beckett even slightly flustered, that was for certain.

Lord Beckett calmly folded the piece of parchment and dropped it onto the table. "You've read it, I'm sure?" His voice was as cool and polished as ever, though inside his mind was racing.

"Yes, m'lord, I have."

"Have every ship in the armada keep a lookout for the _Black Pearl_," Beckett said after a few seconds. "I want Sparrow's head on a plate this time."

"Shall we send the _Dutchman_ for him?" Mercer asked.

"No. Jones is reckless enough as it is. If he were sent for Sparrow there'd likely be nothing left but ruins." Beckett once again studied the jeweled ring. "Assuming she is indeed onboard, we must be careful of how we deal with the situation and with Sparrow."

"Do you intend to make the trade, then?" The question hung in the air as Mercer gave his boss the necessary time to think, while he still stood patiently before him. After a few moments of careful thought Beckett answered.

"Sparrow won't get what he wants, no matter how good his bargaining power is. He need not know that, however." Cutler stood and walked to one of the great windows in the room, watching the large wake the ship left behind. "For now, let him believe that his little plan is working, and that I intend to give him the heart in exchange for my wife, as he has demanded."

Mercer was dismissed with orders to keep a sharp lookout for the _Pearl_. It was all that could be done, as they were already in pursuit and still had not spotted the blasted ship.

Alone once more, Beckett allowed realization to sink in, and with it emotions that he hardly ever experienced.

A flood of questions came to his mind at once. How had Catherine come to be aboard the _Black Pearl_? Had she been aboard the _Endeavour_ until his meeting with Sparrow? This seemed a foolish thought. After all, he was quite certain that he had left her safe and sound in Port Royal, asleep in their enormous bed. That was the last time that he seen her, at least. Was it possible that she had been a stowaway onboard his own ship for several weeks and he had never known? He hated the thought of her hiding in the lower decks, likely dressed as a man and taking what she could to survive. This certainly did not seem like his Catherine. But, as he reminded himself, he didn't really know his wife that well at all.

Since their marriage he had often been too detained by business to spend significant amounts of time with her. As a result, he now realized that he barely knew what she was really like.

To his surprise, he suddenly felt a great deal of guilt with this realization. Guilt and regret were not emotions that Cutler felt often. Indeed, it would not be entirely wrong to say that he never felt them. In his line of work they were unnecessary hindrances that only served to make one weak and vulnerable. He had been vulnerable enough in his earlier years, and had decided that he would never be so again.

With this his thoughts came around to Jack Sparrow. The very man who had brought out Cutler's vulnerability once more, just when he had thought himself free from it with his newly acquired power in the East India Company. He had been younger then, and still somewhat naïve, though he had not thought so at the time. Still, Sparrow's betrayal had left a deep scar on him that he would never be rid of. Even the painful teasing that he had endured as a boy could not compare to it, though he wasn't sure why. All that he knew was that Sparrow had awoken something in him; something that drove him during every waking hour and even in his dreams. Cutler had always been ambitious, but had soon become even more so. In some ways, then, he had Sparrow to thank for his current position of great power.

But now the pirate dared to hold his wife captive and to use her as bargaining power to get what he wanted. In the back of his mind Cutler appreciated such tactics, as they were the ones that he himself used often. However, there was too much at stake this time.

As he watched the waves of the sea roll far below, he thought of how frightened his Catherine must be. After all, she was lady brought up in luxurious furnishings and accustomed to polite, agreeable company. Now she was in the presence of pirates who often preyed on such women. The thought made him nearly tremble with anger.

Cutler looked down at the small ring that he still held in his hand. He turned it over in his fingers carefully, studying the beautiful diamonds and craftsmanship. A small smile crossed his lips as he remembered the moment that he had put it on her finger. God, if any harm came to her….

He slipped the ring into his waistcoat pocket. Now was certainly not the time to be overcome with emotions, he reminded himself. He could not allow Sparrow to set the rules of the game, nor could he allow him to win.

Pulling on one of his fine coats Cutler left his chambers for the open deck of the ship. Now that his mind was a bit clearer he had several important questions to ask his officers. A few of them could soon be seeking other means of employment.

The morning sun greeted him along with a cool ocean breeze. Cutler forced his mind to return to matters at hand, though for the rest of the morning and afternoon he found it very hard to force his thoughts away from his wife. Somehow being separated from her seemed all the more difficult now that he knew whose company she was in.

The afternoon passed without any sign of the _Pearl_. Cutler had remained on deck nearly the whole day, anxious for a sight of the ship in the distance to assure them that they were indeed headed in the right direction. How Sparrow planned to make the exchange while sailing as fast as he could away from the _Endeavour_ was beyond him.

Hands resting on the side of the ship, he watched as the sun slowly set over the sea, finding it difficult to believe that it had only been that morning that he had learned of Catherine's whereabouts. Hearing footsteps behind him he turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of who approached. It was only Mercer, and Cutler did not bother to acknowledge his presence.

"Still no sign of the _Black Pearl_, m'lord. We'll keep a watch out tonight, o' course, but there won't be much of a chance that we'll spot her in the dark."

There was a moment's silence and then Cutler spoke. "She was aboard this very ship for nearly two weeks, yet we never knew. How is it that none of the men noticed a woman such as Catherine? They must all be daft," he added with disdain.

"I suppose they weren't expecting to see a woman onboard, sir, and so didn't pay much attention to her. Many of the men have seen a boy around since we left port, but thought he was employed by the Company. He's been gone since the meeting with Sparrow," Mercer said in his thick accent.

Cutler let out a small sigh. "That was her, then. Bloody hell, she's been living like one of the men since we left Port Royal. What on earth would possess her to do that, I wonder?" He asked this question more to himself than to Mercer, but the other man answered nonetheless.

"You know women, sir. They get foolish ideas sometimes and fail to think on the consequences."

Beckett frowned at this answer. Women certainly could be irrational, difficult creatures, but he had always had a certain respect for them. His mother had been an important part of his young life, and in many ways Catherine reminded him of her. With a keen mind and good reason, a woman could be a formidable opponent; a fact that many men failed to realize.

Wishing to be alone with his thoughts, he dismissed Mercer without another word. The older man walked away, leaving Cutler to once again wonder how and why Catherine had come to be aboard the _Endeavour_. She had clearly gone against his wishes and had decided to join him. She had also apparently decided not to reveal herself to him, for whatever reason. Despite these things he found it hard to be angry at her, though he was somewhat vexed. Perhaps the blame fell upon himself, as well.

He had not seen fit to explain to her many things concerning his role in the East India Company. He had also decided that it was best if she was not troubled with knowledge of the heart of Davy Jones, or its value to him. Being the intelligent woman that she was, she no doubt had learned enough to make her terribly concerned and curious. He had not trusted her with these things, and so she had likely grown to not trust him.

The thought ate at him and made him uneasy. What was it about this woman, his wife, that made him care so much more than he ever had? Why did thoughts of hurting her wake emotions in him, when he had hurt countless others in many ways without thinking twice?

It was all terribly confusing, and Cutler was not at all accustomed to being confused. As a result he now had an excruciating headache, the kind which he occasionally got when he thought too hard on a matter. He turned and headed for his cabin, where he would likely spend most of the night awake.

The sun was gone now, leaving a golden glow across the sky and on the clouds. Catherine had always loved the Caribbean sunsets, or so she had told him one evening a few weeks after their wedding. Her face had been illuminated by the fading golden light, which made her hair glow like fire. Entering his cabin he shut the doors behind him and slowly walked into the room. A slight smile crossed his lips as he remembered the rest of that evening with her.

Even if it took every ship in the armada, he swore to himself that he would have his Lady Beckett safely by his side once again.


End file.
